Welcome

Yes! At last! A blog from the maniac mind of one Ms. Stacy Arnold-Strider.  I know what you’re thinking. “Finally, something to live for.  How did I make it all these years without the wisdom and whimsy of Stacy’s thoughtful musings?” Well, it’s here. Your silly, cynical, sarcastic salve for the soul. You’re welcome. I love you, too.

 First, to answer your burning queries.

Q: Why Moonchild?

A: Simple.  On July 16, 1969, my 22 year-old mother went into agonizing labor with tiny me, her first born, as the world celebrated the historic launch of Apollo 11.  On July 17^th, as a small tinfoil capsule unfathomably hurled three astronauts through space, my infant self emerged reluctantly from the blissful and solitary comfort of my mother’s womb.  Three days later, from a hospital bed, my parents watched Neil Armstrong make history and became the first man to walk on the moon, before taking their baby girl home for the first time.

The significance and symbolism of that moment is not lost on me. I was and am born of the space age.  An era of astounding human achievement and historical beginnings.  The life of that baby girl, only three days old, held all the promise and potential of our great age.  What great wonders would the world hold for her?  What unimaginable discoveries, adventures, achievements might she accomplish in her lifetime? What greatness indeed?  Cue record scratch…

Cut to 44 years later… here I sit, in my humble Marin county condo worth half what we paid for it just before the bubble broke, dazzling middle class, hoodie and sweatpant-wearing, suddenly unemployed, seemingly and hopefully temporarily aimless glory.  What greatness indeed.

It is also no small coincidence that my July 17^th birthdate plunks me right into the sign of Cancer, ruled by the moon — a Moonchild.  And indeed I am.  I have been captured and enraptured by that amazing, beautiful, glowing silver orb and all of her power and mystery for as long as I can remember.  Also fitting, the Cancer sign of the sideways “69”, the year of my birth.  And, of course, the Cancer element of water.  I crave and am enriched by the rain and sea as a vampire is by blood.  And there’s so much more.  Moody, nurturing, a homebody, it goes on an on.  Indeed, a Moonchild I am.

Q: Outer Stace?

A: There’s no denying it.  I’m a bit “out there”, as most of my family, friends, and associates will attest.  I have been called Spacey Stacy by more than a few.  It’s a fitting epithet, so I really can’t protest.  I can be spacey and dingy on occasion, usually when I’ve skipped a meal (doesn’t happen often) or need a nap (happens daily).

More so, however, I spend the majority of my day, and subsequently, the majority of my life, in wondrous places far, far away, accessed only through the deep reaches of my mind.  I don’t mean to go there, it just happens — unconsciously, constantly, when I’m reading, working, driving, going to the bathroom, you name it.  “Never [her] mind on where [she] is.”  Yes, that’s a Star Wars reference. There will be more.  Get used to it.

My happy habit of slipping away to distant environs usually takes me to places and periods of ancient human history and worlds we have yet to discover.  I lapse into musing over what if and what was as easily and mindlessly as I breathe.  I am fascinated by history, arts, science and science-fiction.  I long to experience worlds long lost to time and yet to occur. My greatest fantasy is to experience time travel, to journey to our past, discover it’s truths, see it in all it’s splendor and glory and horror – study the architecture, see the great wonders being built, meet the people, hear the languages, and record it all for posterity.  Sadly, as George Carlin appearing before me with a time-traveling telephone booth is probably not going to happen anytime soon, my mind and spirit are left to wander, and wonder, and yearn.

Unfortunately, my creative dreamy side is constantly at odds with and undermined by my equally practical nature.  This is an internal struggle and great cause of stress and indecision that paralyses me on virtually a daily basis.  As I drift through my time travel ether, I inevitably trip across the inconvenient realities inherent in any and all tourism.  How would I communicate? How would I eat? Where would I sleep? I would need to learn the languages, pack my own toilet paper, tampons and Midol, and sprout a penis if at all possible.  Yes, the greatest iceberg on my time travel Titanic is knowing that if the opportunity did ever miraculously present itself to me, popping-up in the middle of medieval Europe as little ol’ girly me would be disastrous.  Sadly, realistically, I wouldn’t last a day.  I’m no Sarah Connor, let's face it.

And then there’s the really “out there” me.  The one I hold back and only share on occasion, reluctantly and usually masked beneath self-deprecating jokes.  I am the girl who believes.  Ghosts, UFOs, the Loch Ness Monster, Big Foot, bring it on!  You name it, I’ve heard about it, studied it, and have a theory on it.  I can’t get enough of the paranormal.  I’m an eternal lover of all things weird, strange, and unusual.  Note, I don’t believe simply for the sake of believing. I approach every story with a healthy dose of skepticism, and puzzle at some of the crazy conclusions to which believers too often jump. But, I do keep an open mind. Wide open.  We have only yet begun to understand the mysteries of this great world, galaxy and universe we live in.  After all, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.  Well said, Willy boy.  Well said.

Needless to say, I’m not exactly normal. My interests and opinions are often unique and extreme.  When we get to feminist issues, you’ll know what I mean.  I’ve always been a bit of an outsider, or felt like one anyway.  Sure, externally I’ve carefully manicured and maintained a facade of semi-normalcy and safe mediocrity, mostly for survival purposes. On the inside, I’m a sassy, dark, corseted, gorgeous Goth with a great singing voice and a heart of gold. Think Frank N. Furter meets Elvira meets Julie Andrews. That’s me. On the inside. With a healthy dash of Han Solo. Yes, I want to be him and make out with him. It’s complicated.

Q: What can I expect from your blog?

A: You got me.  I’m making this up as I go. To be sure, there will be elaborations on subjects and themes already mentioned above.  You can also count on film reviews, accounts of various personal travels and adventures, random rants, and observances on pop-culture and the human condition in general.

Q: Will your blog really change my life?

A: Of course.  How could it not?

Thank you, all, for checking in on my virgin voyage into the great blogosphere!  I will endeavor to keep entertaining and enlightening content coming your way on at least a semi-regular basis.
One caveat, I am sure my blog will go through many mutations before I land on a visual and thematic format that sticks.  Please bear with me while I figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Love to you all!

Stacy